Pin me down again
by Lizwontcry
Summary: What should have happened after the scene of deliciousness in Invisble Evidence.


**I enjoyed "the scene" in Invisible Evidence. It was smoking hot, really. Now, in the CSI universe, this episode was a little bit before Butterflied. So Grissom was obviously not going to act on anything that would have happened because, you know, he "just couldn't do it." So, let's suspend our disbelief and enjoy a tiny bit of smut and other assorted GSR fun. It's probably out of character, but whatevs, that's why I'm not a writer on the show, right?**

Sara Sidle couldn't sleep. When she closed her eyes, all she could think about was what happened earlier with the bloody sheet, the wall, Grissom. She was no stranger to having insomnia, but this was different. This time her brain was trying to torture her, she thought.

Before it happened, all she had been trying to do was get into the mind set of the victim at the time of the crime. That was one of her finer points, the way she could so seamlessly do that. It was also, as some might argue, one of her biggest faults.

But when Grissom came into the room and asked if she was questioning his work, maybe she was, and not just on this case. Maybe she wanted to get a rise out of him. Maybe she wanted to mix things up a little. She wanted to think that what she said to him next was meant to show the victim's struggle and how the actually crime transpired. But maybe her motive wasn't totally pure. Maybe she wanted him to notice her in a different way. She told herself that obviously she was above that kind of thing, but ever since she asked him to dinner and he gave her a very blunt and very soul-crushing "No" as an answer, she was trying to make up her mind to be either more persistent or forget about it altogether. But the second the words "tie me down" passed her lips and Grissom grabbed her wrists while she simulated how the victim reacted, well, she could barely hold a thought together, much less trying to make her mind up.

When he slowly moved his hands down around her waist, to show how the wax was transferred from the suspect to the victim, his fingers grazed her forearm for about half of a second. And for that half a second, it took everything she had not to shiver, moan, or anything else that might give her away. That one single touch, just a graze, really, made her feel things that she hadn't felt, well, ever. Hank Peddigrew had been an interesting distraction for a few months, but he never made her feel like that.

While she had her hands in the air, Grissom's palms on the wall, stretched around her waist, she felt his penetrating glance. She felt the heat from their bodies. And damn, she wished he would just have fucking kissed her. Sure, they were at work, the door was open, people were passing by in the hall, but it wouldn't be like anyone would be surprised. She heard in passing once, from one of the day shift lab rats that had never met her, that people had wagers on when she and Grissom would "get a room," so to speak. She wanted to tell the lab rat not to hold her breath.

Sara knew people were aware of her feelings for her boss. She knew that after she freaked out after the lab explosion, people paid attention to that. Brass had been all kid gloves with her ever since it happened. But she wasn't sure if they knew it was more than just a girly "crush" she had on him. He was more than a boss, he was a friend. He was a mentor. He was her inspiration. He was the reason why she left everything she knew in San Francisco and came to Vegas. And he was the most irritating person she'd ever met. Sara had known Gil Grissom for nearly a decade, a decade which had been filled with harmless flirtations, long-distance emails and hand-written letters, soulful phone calls in the middle of the night. Once, they even almost kissed. But that was before she came to Las Vegas. Afterwards, there were only meaningful looks, casual flirtations, and lots of misinterpretations. Oh, and lots of heartfelt sighing. Well, maybe that was just her.

As she contemplated breaking into the stash of sleeping pills she tried not to take unless she was at her wit's end, her phone rang. It was 4 in the afternoon, everyone knew she was usually sleeping around that time. Irritated, she looked at the caller ID. GRISSOM, GILBERT, the caller ID read. Well, this was different. They hadn't talked on the phone about something other than work in years.

Not having a clue what to expect, she reluctantly picked up her phone.

"Hello?" She said timidly.

"Sara."

"Grissom...hi."

Their empty words hung in the air, and neither of them had anything else to say for the moment. She was getting just the tiniest bit frustrated.

"Were you sleeping?" He asked.

"No," she said. "I couldn't sleep."

"Me, either," he said.

She waited for him to continue. She also thought she could detect the slightest hint of a slur in his voice. Had he been drinking?

"Sara, about earlier today...you said...you said you were always overtalking around me."

Yes, she had said that. When the tension between them was so hot she could feel beads of sweat gather on her neck, she had stepped away and gave him a speech that she instantly regretted. It was something about her promotion, and she hoped that whatever happened or didn't happen between them...oh, it was so embarrassing.

"Yes, Grissom, I did say that. Because I am."

He sighed. She didn't know if he wanted her to say more, and she wasn't going to budge until he did.

"You're going to make me work for this, aren't you?"

"Work for WHAT, Grissom? What is happening with you right now?"

"Remember when we used to talk on the phone for hours? Remember when we'd both get home after a long day and the first thing we'd do is call each other?" He asked.

It seemed improbable now, but for almost a year, they had long, drawn-out conversations nearly every day. They'd talk about cases and people and pop culture and alien life forms and he'd tell her about bugs and she'd listen intently. It was after they'd met at the seminar he gave about a double-homicide. He had to go back to Vegas; she stayed in San Francisco. They vowed to keep in touch. Both of them were curious to see if anything would develop, but after a while, the phone calls and emails and hand-written letters came to an abrupt end. She'd been surprised when he contacted her and asked if she could come to Vegas to help investigate a member of his team. Pleasantly surprised.

"Yes, but that was a long time ago."

"Remember when things got...interesting?"

"Yes, I do," she said, remembering. She felt herself blushing. He was the only man that could make her blush through a phone. And not for the first time, either. Their phone calls hadn't always been friendly. There was a night or two or three or twelve where the talk got a little dirty. They found themselves saying things that neither of them had ever found the confidence to say to anyone before. Sara found herself talking about mounting his ferocious cock until it exploded inside her pink love tunnel. He found himself saying things about licking her clit until she had the biggest, wettest orgasm of her life. These things were instantly forgotten, in theory, as soon as they hung up the phone.

"Sara, that thing today...when you said you were overtalking...when I had your wrists in my hand...I should have done something. I should have closed the door, locked it, and kissed you. With tongue. I should have put my hands somewhere other than on that damn sheet. I wanted to keep you against that wall for hours, maybe even days."

"Now, come on--"

"When you asked me to dinner that night, I wasn't trying to reject you. I was worried about the lab. I was worried about Greg in the hospital, I was worried about Catherine getting suspended for the lab explosion. I was worried about going to the doctor about my hearing. And I was worried about you, Sara. You were hurt in the explosion. You did something dangerous after the explosion. When Brass told me what happened, all I wanted to do was find you and protect you."

"I don't need protection," she said slowly. "That's not what I want from you. I want companionship. I want equality. I want...love. I don't need you to take care of me, Griss. I've been on my own for a long time."

He was quiet for a minute. She didn't know what else to say.

Then he said, "I just wanted to make sure."

"Of what?" She asked. "What are--"

And then she heard a knock on her door. And she knew it was going to be him. She hung up the phone, she got out of bed, clad in her boxers and tank top, and answered the door.

There he was. God, she loved that beard he had recently grown. He was wearing his glasses, which she always thought made him look just a tiny bit sexier than usual. And he had a look in his eye she had never seen before. A predatory look. An intense look.

He came in, never taking his eyes off her. She didn't know what to do. But that look in his eye...she knew why he was here. It was not for pure reasons. And that was okay with her.

Something was going to happen, that much was for sure. But it wasn't yet clear who was going to be the one to initiate it. Sara decided she'd be the one. She didn't want to wait another second.

"Pin me down," Sara said. Grissom nodded. He took her wrists in his hand, and she didn't fight back this time. He pinned her against her front door, pressing his body against her. She tried not to moan, but a tiny little sigh escaped her lips anyway. Grissom liked that. He smiled wide.

He moved his hands, one of them still holding both her wrists. His grip was tight, but not tight enough that she couldn't get out of it. Not that she wanted to. With his other hand, he traced her bare skin with his fingers...her face, her neck, her arms, and then her thighs. She audibly moaned when his finger slid under her boxer shorts, not close enough to the important parts, but just close enough to know that he'd be there soon.

She knew he was going to kiss her. He knew he was going to kiss her. The fact that they were going to kiss hung in the air, letting it stretch out into the universe, where it would be permanantly after it happened.

So it happened. As he did earlier that day, he lowered his hands, wrapping them around her waist. On the way down, his fingers grazed her arm. The simplest of touches was making her more wet than she had ever known.

And there they were again. Like earlier, she had her hands up in the air, he had his hands around her waist. And instead of talking about the case, he leaned in closer to her. He looked her in the eye. She nodded, just a tiny nod. And he kissed her. With tongue. And it was sloppy, and it wasn't perfect, and it was the most amazing thing either of them never imagined. Within seconds, they were down on the floor, arms and legs and tongues tangled together in a complicated web. There was a bed somewhere in this house, they both knew, but neither of them wanted to stop kissing long enough to find it.

Sara always wondered what would happen when it came down to this. She wondered if it would be awkward. She wondered if he would fumble with buttons or if she would have trouble getting a zipper down. She wondered if his age was going to be a factor. She was a realist; she knew that there was a chance things wouldn't go exactly as planned since he was just a tad bit older than her.

But when it was the two of them down on the floor - she was glad she had just vacuumed yesterday - none of these thoughts made an appearance in her mind. There was a sigh of pleasure when she figured out that his age, uh, wouldn't so much be a problem. At all.

The whole event was rather primitive, but she figured that their mating ritual had lasted so long it was only fitting they consummated it in such a primal way. Foreplay only lasted long enough to go on a body exploration. Grissom nearly tore her shirt off, found her nipples with his lizard-like tongue and sucked. She moaned loud enough for her more nosy of neighbors to hear. They both wrestled the pants off each other and spent a few minutes exploring regions neither of them thought they would be becoming so intimately familiar with. Grissom stuck 2 fingers inside of her while she wrapped her hand around his shaft, feeling how ready he was to take this to the next level.

They stopped the exploration long enough for him to look deep in her eyes and whisper, "Are you ready?"

Ready? They were a little past the point of ready. She nodded and simply said, "Yes."

She instantly wanted on top, but he again pinned her wrists down to the floor with one hand. He entered her softly at first, and when she moaned with indescribable pleasure, his movements became rougher, more intense. He leaned down to kiss her, and released her wrists from his strong grip. She put her hands around his butt, shoving him into her harder than he could think to go.

It didn't take them long to come, but they did it at the same time. They lay sweaty and satisfied in each others arms, not caring they both were naked and completely exposed to each other. Well, this is different, Sara thought to herself.

"Um, just so you know...I had a vasectomy when I was 30, so..."

"Oh. Oh! I didn't even think about that!" She said. How dumb! How completely stupid could she be? She was not the motherly type. At least not the single motherly type.

They were quiet for another few minutes. Sara started feeling the effects of a slight case of rug burn.

"Um, if you think you want to stay for a little while, do you think we should move this into the bedroom?"

He smiled and nodded. She led him into her girly bedroom, and they sank into her bed. He held her closely, and they both drifted off to sleep. There were questions, but they weren't going to be answered now.

A few hours later, she woke up to the sight of Gil Grissom looking at her, running a finger through her hair.

"Hi," he said, grinning ever so slightly.

"Hey."

"Do you want to talk?" He asked softly.

"Yeah, maybe we should," she said.

"I don't want you to think this was a one night stand. I would never do that to you, Sara. I know I've treated you terribly in the past, and I want to make it up to you. When you said you wanted companionship and equality and...love...and not someone to protect you, not somebody to teach you, I knew it was going to be okay. And, Sara, if you'll forgive me..."

He kept talking about making it up to her and trying to leave the past behind, and she saw how completely vulnerable he was. He was 50 years old and the only thing that had been truly real to him was his bugs and his career. Looking at him, so fragile and beautiful, she found feelings within herself that she didn't even recognize.

"...and really, if you could just give me a chance--"

"Grissom, please, just stop talking. Of course I'll give you a chance. Of course I will. Why wouldn't I? It's always been you."

He smiled, and kissed her softly. The fading light of the sun going down around the mountains was streaming through her window, giving them both the hope and optimism that they could fight for each other. They could fight the past, they could fight their insane workaholic urgers, they could fight for what they both wanted. They both knew the challenges they would face, but they just didn't care.

"Now, let me see what I can do about your previous request," he said. He got out of bed, went to retrieve something for her living room, and came back with a pair of handcuffs."

"Brass will kill me when he finds out," he said. She giggled as he slipped her hands into the cuffs, and then everything was forgotten as they again stepped into eternal bliss.


End file.
